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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134555">in order to arrive at what you are not</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder'>bluebeholder</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chronic Pain, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, mild miscommunication, that's it that's the fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 14:53:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,394</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28134555</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter, 9:37 Dragon</p>
<p>Fenris has always dealt with lingering pain from the lyrium embedded in his skin. He's never mentioned it to Anders, simply by oversight. Of course, Anders wants to help, but things like this aren't always that easy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Fenris (Dragon Age)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>One and the Same [19]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1654444</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in order to arrive at what you are not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>How about that Dragon Age 4 teaser? It sure lit a fire under me to get this series in motion...no plot to be found here, just character study and hurt/comfort.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t <em>believe</em> you!”</p>
<p>“What’s to disbelieve?” Fenris asks dryly. He reclines on the low bed he and Anders share in their room, at his ease despite the furious look Anders gives him.</p>
<p>Anders glowers. He sits down on the bed. “Years! <em>Years </em>we were companions—”</p>
<p>“Who rarely spoke on matters of substance.”</p>
<p>“—and lovers for a year now—”</p>
<p>“Who are busy conducting a rebellion against the Chantry.”</p>
<p>“—and you still never managed to tell me something this important?” Anders looks caught somewhere between lost and angry by the end of his tirade. Fenris takes pity on him.</p>
<p>“Mage. It’s fine. This isn’t important to me.”</p>
<p>He gets a look of consternation for that. “It’s important to <em>me</em>. I want to know when you’re hurt. I’m a healer.”</p>
<p>Fenris sits up and takes Anders’ hand in his. “You have a great heart,” he says. “But these brands are beyond anyone’s power to heal, I think.”</p>
<p>Somehow, in years of companionship, Fenris had neglected to mention the perpetual pain of his lyrium brands to Anders. At first it had been a refusal to show weakness, but over time it’s merely become an oversight. They hurt almost constantly, but Fenris has grown accustomed to it. What other choice does he have?</p>
<p>He found what protected him from pain, and he does his best to reduce it. And if there are still nights when his body hurts badly enough that he can do nothing but lie in bed and wish to tear off his skin, well…it can’t be helped. Fenris has always been a practical man. He doesn’t complain.</p>
<p>Now here he is. Anders looks less lost, but still unhappy. He caresses the side of Fenris’ hand gently with his thumb. “How many times have I hurt you without you telling me?”</p>
<p>Fenris sees no reason to prevaricate. “Many times,” he says. He holds Anders’ hand tighter before Anders can move away. “I think nothing of it.”</p>
<p>“I could have been gentler,” Anders says.</p>
<p>“Lying in bed, putting on armor, feeling the hilt of a sword in my hands…it’s all the same pain, in the end,” Fenris says. He slides forward a bit, closer to Anders. “I consider your touch to be worth the price.”</p>
<p>Anders gives him a look, the one of grim determination that usually heralds trouble. “There must be <em>something</em> I can do.”</p>
<p>“Short of finding a way to remove them, I suspect it’s unlikely,” Fenris says. “And I don’t wish to remove them. Do not argue the matter.”</p>
<p>“You stubborn, obnoxious man,” Anders says softly.</p>
<p>But there’s no bite to the words, only worry and concern. Fenris shrugs, letting his silence speak for itself. He allows Anders to move behind him on the bed and wrap his arms around Fenris from behind, chin on his shoulder.</p>
<p>Since coming here, they’ve had many more quiet moments like this. Anders has put his fight on hold in the interest of protecting the increasing number of mages trying to hide from the Chantry. In this forgotten castle in the empty hills of Rivain, the mages Anders and Fenris shepherd have found some measure of peace.</p>
<p>Here in Rivain, the Chantry holds little sway except further south in Dairsmuid, where they do not travel. A few mages from the Dairsmuid Circle, concerned about the future potential for trouble as tensions rise across Thedas, have found their way to the castle, but there are not many. Even these mages often use the castle merely as a waypoint on their travels elsewhere in Rivain. This country is far more permissive to its mages than anywhere else Fenris has been outside of Tevinter.</p>
<p>In some ways, though, it has assuaged his worries about Anders’ cause. Traditions of mages here are wholly for the benefit of society, though they’re often very foreign practice to the mages from more southern countries. Mages serve their communities with healing, protection, spiritual guidance—and despotism is the exception, not the rule. Abominations are, to Fenris’ ongoing surprise, rarer here than they were in the Free Marches. He will always be wary, of course, but he has a new understanding of the complexity of the issue.</p>
<p>Here, their contingent is safe enough. No one is looking for them. Any Rivaini are not in the business of turning them over to the Chantry. Fenris does not believe that their safety will last forever but, for now, it will do.</p>
<p>They number thirty-three now. Sixteen mages ranging in age from seven to almost seventy, five Tranquil mages, five mercenaries of assorted backgrounds, the father and mother of one mage child, a hedge mage’s husband, two Dalish sisters intent on protecting their apostate brother (rescued from Markham Circle), and, of course, Anders and Fenris. An eclectic group of people, all told, but close-knit.</p>
<p>In the absence of a constant need to move, this odd group has come closer to self-sustenance. They have a garden growing in the sunny castle courtyard, the Tranquil mage Eula is raising chickens—having done so in the Circle—and Arnfried has his milk cow. With some work, the well in the castle has been restored to working order.</p>
<p>A small town some miles away is the nearest contact to civilization, a point of meeting for messengers and traveling mages. It also permits them to take care of their small community’s needs. They use money from Fenris’ (dwindling) mercenary fortune and the funds of the Paine family, formerly cloth merchants, who brought much of their money with them when they fled Starkhaven with their young apostate daughter. A few times, Fenris has hired himself out as a mercenary for local needs, as well.</p>
<p>As for defenses, there are eight able and ready fighters, seven battle-ready mages of various schools and abilities, and—though Fenris tries to forget about him—Justice, when necessary. They’re no army, but they can hold their own against many of Thedas’ dangers.</p>
<p>All in all, things are finally going right. Anders has been spinning grand plans again, exchanging letters with his people in the reborn Mage Underground and receiving information on its successes. He is becoming something of a chessmaster, watching the board from afar and moving pieces with care and strategy. When he gets overexcited, Fenris reminds him that at the end of the day this rebellion is small, with few leaders, and will need much more strength before it can truly act.</p>
<p>“You are a good man,” Fenris says, all these things in his mind. He leans back against Anders, the lyrium brands on his back twinging with pain.</p>
<p>“I care about you, you obstinate elf,” Anders murmurs. “Would you let me try, at least, to find a way to ease the pain?”</p>
<p>Fenris wraps a hand around Anders’ arm where it crosses his chest. “Save your energy for your mages,” he says. “I will be fine.”</p>
<p>Anders sighs softly. “I still don’t understand you sometimes.” Fenris feels Anders kiss the top of his head. “But I’ll listen. At least…promise me one thing?”</p>
<p>“That depends on what you ask me to promise,” Fenris says.</p>
<p>“Tell me,” Anders says. “When it hurts more than usual. When you need something from me.”</p>
<p>Fenris turns a little. “You have already given me what I need, mage.”</p>
<p>“Then promise the first part,” Anders says.</p>
<p>“Very well. I will…speak to you,” Fenris says.</p>
<p>“Thank you, love,” Anders says. Another kiss, soft as the first. As always, the endearment makes Fenris shiver a little.</p>
<p>From the quiet of their room, Fenris can hear the muted sounds of the castle. The children are playing in the hall; a game of “how many miles to Val Royeaux,” by the sound of the singing and running footsteps. Below in the courtyard the chickens are raising the clamor that means they’re being fed. Distantly, there’s an explosion.</p>
<p>“<em>Someone’s</em> having fun,” Anders comments.</p>
<p>“They’re going to drop a wall on themselves sooner or later,” Fenris says dryly.</p>
<p>“It’ll be their own fault if they do,” Anders says. “I’m not going to run around managing everything they do. That would be too much like the Circles they left.”</p>
<p>Fenris inclines his head. “It’s your revolution.”</p>
<p>Anders snorts. “Oh, get off your high horse. Who’s the one who went out and hired four more mercenaries before we traveled ‘just in case’?”</p>
<p>“Ornek and I can only protect so many people at once.”</p>
<p>“<em>And </em>you made it quite clear that you’ve decided this is your cause.”</p>
<p>“You are the face of it, Anders.”</p>
<p>“Whether you like it or not, you’re a part of this mess now, and for good,” Anders says. He shifts a little and the mattress creaks. “The history books will have to mention you. The heroic warrior who valiantly defended desperate mages—”</p>
<p>“—despite their leader’s <em>endless</em> prattling,” Fenris says. “<em>Hush</em>.”</p>
<p>Anders laughs softly. Fenris feels the sound more than he hears it. “Fair enough.”</p>
<p>It’s very warm in Anders’ arms. Naturally, their breathing has synchronized, in a slow serene rhythm. Fenris has no desire to move. A far cry from Kirkwall, or even from the temporary camps they’ve inhabited for the last year, where constant vigilance was the watchword.</p>
<p>They don’t speak for a while. Anders may be talkative, but he’s not all chatter. And Fenris enjoys the quiet. His life has been violent enough that moments of serenity are to be collected, hoarded like the treasures that they are.</p>
<p>He traces the stitches marking the almost-invisible darns and patches on the sleeve of Anders’ coat. They mark the lines of rips and tears put there in battle, through hard wear, in scrapes and falls. It’s a map of Anders’ travels, laid out on his coat. It makes him look disreputable, but Fenris likes it.</p>
<p>The fine work is courtesy of Yvonne, a high-born mage from Orlais whose family had paid good money for her protection and stature—until, of course, the Chantry took exception. Her work is impeccable, the product of years of idle work in the Circle, and everyone in this castle wears <em>something </em>she’s mended or embroidered. Fenris is no novice when it comes to mending his clothes (it’s a good skill for any traveler, fugitive, or mercenary to have), but Yvonne is an <em>artist</em>.</p>
<p>“Would you refuse to try <em>anything</em>?” Anders asks out of nowhere.</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” Fenris demands, twisting around to look at Anders. He nearly topples off the bed, but keeps a good hold on Anders, and avoids complete indignity.</p>
<p>Anders shrugs, something approaching guilt on his face. “I have some ideas for things that could help you,” he says. “I mean. It’s my <em>job</em>, after all.”</p>
<p>Fenris feels a familiar upwelling of irritation. He cares about Anders, more than he has the words to express, but sometimes…</p>
<p>Everything he’s feeling must show on his face, because Anders looks a little shaken. He draws back a little, letting go of Fenris. “I didn’t intend to cause offense.”</p>
<p>“Do you think I haven’t tried?” Fenris demands. “I’ve asked for magical healing. It doesn’t last, or worse, hurts. I’ve tried ordinary physicians, teas and ointments and…they don’t last, or dull my mind and body. There’s nothing to be done.”</p>
<p>Anders scowls. “If I knew what treatments you’d tried, I could—”</p>
<p>“Venhedis, mage, do you think I kept a <em>list</em>?”</p>
<p>“I would!”</p>
<p>“As we have discussed <em>many</em> times,” Fenris snaps, “I am <em>not</em> you.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re not,” Anders says. He leans back and folds his arms. “That’s <em>quite </em>clear. I’d have done a lot of things quite differently, in your position!”</p>
<p>Fenris stands and crosses the room to stand by the narrow window, staring out unseeingly, fists clenched at his side. “I am doing the best I can,” he says, and even Fenris can hear that he’s not trying to convince <em>Anders</em> of the fact.</p>
<p>He hates that he does this—retreats into anger when he’s uncomfortable—but Fenris hasn’t learned how to stop himself. He tries, but always fails, especially when Anders is involved. Anders has always been able to find and prod at Fenris’ most painful parts, and is not shy about doing so. That certainly hasn’t changed now that they’re lovers.</p>
<p>What <em>has </em>changed is that, though they still are no strangers to argument, they are much more adept at patching one another up after the fact.</p>
<p>“I don’t doubt you are,” Anders says, after a moment. Fenris hears the bed creak as Anders rises, his boots resounding on the stone floor as he crosses the room to stand beside Fenris. Not touching, merely close by. “You always do.”</p>
<p>“You don’t think it’s enough.” Fenris looks up at Anders.</p>
<p>“Have I ever, in my life, thought <em>anything</em> was enough?” Anders asks, grimacing comically, and Fenris has to smile. “Really, though, Fenris. You are doing far better than most would, in your place.”</p>
<p>Fenris doesn’t say anything. He looks back out the window. It’s narrow, open to the weather; the glass was lost long ago and they haven’t had time or resources to find a good waxed-paper cover. It’s not a problem, since this part of Rivain rarely sees heavy rain or bad weather. As a result, the landscape beyond the castle walls—the rolling, empty, winter-brown hills of the countryside—makes for a nice view.</p>
<p>After a few moments, Anders speaks again. “I just worry about you.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Fenris says. He feels tension uncoil from his shoulders, hands loosening at his sides.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you do,” Anders says.</p>
<p>Fenris sighs. “You’ve seen all of it before. Stretching when I wake and before I sleep. Breathing exercises. Pressure, when applied the right way. Hot compresses. Drinking.”</p>
<p>Anders snorts. “Last one, not recommended.”</p>
<p>“It’s certainly a distraction. Besides, I haven’t been drinking like that for a while,” Fenris says. “Not everywhere has such a fine selection of wines as Danarius’ cellar, you know.”</p>
<p>“Fair enough,” Anders says. He pauses, and adds more quietly, “Those are good. They’re what I’d recommend, certainly.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad they meet your professional standard.”</p>
<p>He gets a half smile for that. “There are other things I’d recommend, too.”</p>
<p>“Anders, I…”</p>
<p>Fenris stops, unsure of what else to say. It sounds ridiculous to continue to refuse treatment, when in all likelihood Anders could concoct something truly brilliant, if given a little time. Yet…</p>
<p>In a rare display of tact, Anders doesn’t say anything either.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fun fact: although Anders would discourage drinking for pain relief on the grounds of things like “alcohol addiction,” there’s a chance Fenris <i>actually would</i> see some pain benefits from consumption of red wine. The skins of red wine grapes contain a compound called “resveratrol,” which has been studied in clinical trials as an anti-inflammatory agent, mostly in relation to heart health but also in relation to osteoarthritic joint pain. This is NOT medical advice—PLEASE don’t go out consuming a vast amount of red wine in an attempt to find pain relief—just me pointing out that Fenris might have, in his own idiosyncratic way, been onto something.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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